


Prequel - Mischief Deal

by The_Fang_Kid



Series: Tails of Magical Nerds [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Marauders - Fandom
Genre: 1960's, Lily swears a LOT, Prequel, Remus Lupin is a werewolf, Sirius has better reasoning at 6 years old than most adults, Sirius is abused but I couldn't find a content warning for that b/c it's not graphic, Vampire OC, pre-marauders era (technically), someone needs to hug the marauders, there's only so many tags you can add to a short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29811837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Fang_Kid/pseuds/The_Fang_Kid
Summary: Everyone has a dark point in their past, even if some are darker than others. The Marauders are no exception to that.This is the prequel to a very long Marauders fanfic.
Series: Tails of Magical Nerds [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2191419
Kudos: 2





	1. 1964

Remus Lupin shivered, his heart thumping in his chest. The icy glow from the full moon flooded the room. Shadowy, spindly talons clawed at the walls. Naked tree branches rustled in the wind, attempting to drown out the hoot of owls. Bang. Bang. Bang. It came from his wardrobe. His eyes burned, and a scream left his throat raw. 

The light flicked on. Remus’ mother, Hope, leant against the doorframe. Her light brown curls rested on the shoulders of her pink pyjamas. Her face was gaunt, slightly pale, with a reddened nose and flushed cheeks. “Remy, what’s the problem?” 

“There’s a monster in the wardrobe!” He pointed to the tall lightwood wardrobe in the bedroom corner. Bang. Bang. Bang. He hid himself under his blue TARDIS duvet. 

Hope walked over to the wardrobe and slowly opened the door. Humming, she pulled back the hung clothes and glanced around inside. She turned back to Remus, kissing his forehead.  
“See? No monsters. The door was loose. You’ll always be safe, Remy. we’ll protect you.” 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Remus dried his eyes on his pyjama sleeve, his heart rate slowing back down to normal. Hope opened his bedroom window before kissing his forehead again.  
“Goodnight, Remy.”  
“Night, mummy.” 

She flicked the light off and closed the bedroom door. Remus yawned. The crying and the screaming—the being scared—left him warn out, and his eyes slid shut as soon as his head hit the pillow. 

But Hope was wrong. Two animalistic yellow eyes glowed, watching Remus fall asleep. The screams Remus let out tore apart the childish fear of monsters as red stained blue.


	2. 1965

Peter Pettigrew bit his lip. He looked over the primary-school playground. A couple of boys argued with a girl about letting her play with them. Some kids played on the monkey-bars. Another group played hot potato with a football. 

He walked over and tapped one of the hot potato players on the shoulder.   
“What?”  
“C-can I play with you?”   
“Shove off, Peter Pan, you fatty!” One of the other kids called. 

Peter scratched the back of his neck. He was short with sandy-blond hair and wore a green wool jumper with blue jeans. His face warming up, he shuffled over and sat down on the patch of grass by the school fence. His eyes burned, and he pulled up a daisy in frustration. 

“Are you okay?” 

He jumped. The speaker was a pale man, with short brown hair. He wore a white shirt, grey waistcoat and matching trousers. He leaned on the fence.   
“Yes, thanks,” said Peter. “I’m Peter.”   
“Well Hello, Peter. I’m Danny. Do you think a lollipop will help?”  
The man—Danny—held out a red lollipop, smiling peacefully. Peter grinned, taking it.   
“Thanks!” 

“Oi!”   
Peter turned. Mrs Piers, his teacher, stormed over. He wasn’t supposed to have food in the playground. Peter dropped the lollipop into the grass.   
“Get away from that child!” she yelled. “Go! Off with you! Or I’ll call the coppers!”

Danny scowled and walked away. Mrs Piers rushed over to Peter, kneeling down to him.   
“Oh my god! Are you alright? Peter?”   
Peter nodded.   
“I’m going to have to call your parents, make sure they know what happened.”  
“They’ll still be at the Bakery now.”   
“I’ll call the Bakery, then.” 

—

His mother was frantic when she got home. He wasn’t sure why, Danny seemed nice, but he didn’t want to upset her more. She wrapped him up in a blanket, gave him a raisin bun from the bakery and they, along with his father, watched the TV together.


	3. 1966

Sirius Black groaned. He let his black, wavy hair fall in front of his face as the words swam on the pages of his book. He had been reading for hours, and his eyes ached with strain. He curled up on the windowsill, tossing the hardback on the floor. 

Regulus jumped and looked up from his own book. He resembled Sirius in a lot of ways; he shared his porcelain complexion, his neatly trimmed black hair, his silvery eyes. Both brothers carried an air of elegance. Well, how could they not? They were members of the Noble House of Black, and as their parents always said, they were practically royalty. It didn’t mean they had to be as incestuous as royalty, but Sirius kept that thought to himself. 

Glancing out the window, Sirius froze. Down at the front of the house was a boy. He was older than Sirius by several years, chestnut brown hair spiked in all directions, and a face covered in freckles. He wore a plain t-shirt and shorts caked in mud. He kicked a quaffle-sized ball on the ground, even flipping it up and bouncing it on his knee. He was a muggle; he had to be. Those clothes weren’t wizard robes, and that was definitely not how you use a quaffle.   
“Reg, come and have a look!”

Sighing, Regulus closed his book and sauntered over to the window next to Sirius. “Wait, that’s a muggle, isn’t it?”   
“Most definitely!” Sirius tucked his hair behind his ears. “How in Merlin do they do anything without magic?”  
“Because they’re savages. Mother said so.”  
“You can’t believe everything she says. She never says why, so it can’t be true.” 

The muggle boy looked up at the window and waved. Sirius waved back. The boy looked back down—at the door, likely—and scurried off, leaving his ball behind. Regulus hurried back to his book. 

The door burst open. Walburga walked in, her face sour. Her pale skin tone stood out against her beaded black robes and black hair, which was scraped back into a tight bun. She glared at Sirius.   
“Get away from the window!” she hissed.   
“Why?” Sirius snapped. “It was just a muggle. What’s the problem?”

“Wir sind Mitglieder der Familie Black! Immer pur! Ich möchte nicht, dass du dein Blut schmutzig machst, indem du dich mit ihnen verbindest!*” she yelled. Regulus paled and inched over to the corner of the room.  
“Why does that matter? They talk, think, act like we do!” 

Fire burned in her eyes and she gritted her teeth. Sirius’ heart hammered.   
“You’ve forgotten your place. You need reminding of your status.” She pulled out her wand and aimed it at him. “Crucio!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm bad at languages, I had Google translate help me out. Here's what it's supposed to say in English.
> 
> *We are members of the Black family! Always Pure! I don't want you to dirty your blood by associating with them!


	4. 1967

James hated St Mungo’s. He hated the sting in his nose of disinfectant; he hated the mint green floors and the white walls. He hated that his Mother, Euphemia, was stuck there for so long. 

He distracted himself with paper and wax crayons. He doodled Euphemia and himself, playing quidditch on brooms. Fleamont looked over his shoulder at the drawing.   
“That’s very good.”   
“Can you make it move? For Mum?”   
Fleamont nodded, pulling out his wand and muttering something. The broomsticks drifted over the page and stick-figure-James waved.   
“Thanks, Dad.”   
“She’ll love it.” 

“Euphemia Potter is seeing visitors now.”

Fleamont nodded and stood up, and James followed. Euphemia was tucked up in one of the beds, raising her head weakly as James rushed in. Her hair was tied back off her face, gaunt with sickness.  
“Hi, Mum,” said James. “Are you okay?”  
“I’m good, Jamie.”   
“Look, I drew you and me!” James passed her the drawing.   
She smiled, closing her eyes and resting her head on the pillow. “It’s beautiful, Jamie.” 

The Healer walked in, wearing white robes and a grim expression, a clipboard in his hand. He stopped and turned to Euphemia.   
“Your results are back, Mrs Potter. Magic can’t fix this, so you’ll have to stay here until you recover. While there’s a high chance you’ll survive, it will render you unable to have any more children. We’re so sorry, Mrs Potter.” 

James stared, a lump stuck in his throat. His mother was amazing, the best. She didn’t deserve this.


	5. 1968

Ophelia tightened her ponytail and picked at her grey wool jumper sleeve. Sighing shakily, she opened the door. Fifteen pairs of eyes glanced up at her. She knew exactly what they were staring at—the scars stretching over her face. They were obvious, with no way of hiding them. Even after three years, they still twinged painfully on occasion. She stared at the back of the room to distract herself; a display showing Victorian England. 

“Now class, this is our new student, Ophelia Caedes. Come on Ophelia, tell the class about yourself,” said the teacher.   
Ophelia swallowed. “Um… I’m Ophelia, I live with my brother and we just moved to Spinner’s End. Uh… I’m part-Romanian. I’m allergic to garlic and I love cinnamon.”   
“Ooh, Dracula’s coming for you!” yelled a boy at the back. 

Ophelia stiffened, her throat constricting. How did he know? Were her hazel contacts crooked? Could he see her red eyes?   
“Don’t be mean, Jacobs!” snapped the teacher. She turned to Ophelia. “Sit down with Lily and Severus.”   
She nodded and scanned the room. A red-haired girl with a face full of freckles smiled and waved, as the boy opposite her, tall and pale, with straight black hair brushing his shoulders, shyly followed suit. Her shoulders relaxed, and she sat down in the empty chair. 

“Oh wow, a trio of weirdos!”   
“Just because your birth certificate is an apology from the condom factory!” the red-haired girl—Lily—snapped. 

The room filled with thick silence. The teacher paled and sank into her seat behind the desk. “Evans, please—please go to the head teacher’s office.”   
Huffing, Lily stood up, knocking Jacobs’ exercise book onto the floor. All Ophelia could do was stare long after Lily closed the door behind her.


End file.
